keenly, eagerly examined the aerostat. "A marvel! Who would
have dared predict such another, only a dozen years ago? I
thought we had drawn very close to perfection while I was in the
profession, but this,--marvellous!"

Both words and manner gave the keen-witted professor a clew to
one mystery, and he quickly spoke:

"Then you were familiar with aerostatics, sir? Your name is--"

"Edgecombe,--Cooper Edgecombe."

"What?" with undisguised surprise in face as in voice.
"Professor Edgecombe, the celebrated balloonist who was lost so
long ago?"

"Ay! lost here in this thrice accursed wilderness!" passionately
cried the exile; then, as though abashed by his own outburst, he
turned away, pausing again only when at the entrance to his
dreary refuge of many years.

"Give the poor fellow his own way until he has had time to rally,
boys," muttered uncle Phaeton, in lowered tones, before following
that lead. "I can understand it better, now, and this is--still
is the terra incognita of which I have dreamed so long!"

That refuge proved to be a large, fairly dry cavern, the entrance
to which was admirably masked by vines and creepers, while the
stony soil just there retained no trace of footprints to tell
dangerous tales.